Empty Nests
by carrytheotter
Summary: Ron and Hermione adjust to their new life now that both of their children are off at Hogwarts for the first time. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

I wish I owned these characters, but I am grateful JKR allows us to play with them.

Ron dusted the soot from his orange shirt as he stepped through the floo into the living room. He still wasn't used to how quiet their home was now that both Rose and Hugo were at Hogwarts. It had been weird when Rose left for school, but Hugo was such a whirlwind of energy that the house couldn't feel empty with him in it. Now with them both gone, it was just strange to be in the quiet. Parents are forced to learn to distrust silence when the children are young.

He'd learned the silence problem the hard way years ago. He and Hermione had been watching Al while Harry and Ginny were home with a sick James. Rose and Al had to have been only 2 or 3, and he and Hermione were smugly congratulating themselves about watching the two children without total chaos erupting in their home as it always seemed to at the Potters. The kids were quietly playing in the other room while the two adults ate dinner, and every now and then they would pop back in asking for more milk. Finally, thinking she was being cute, Hermione asked, "where are you two putting all of this milk? You two will have such strong bones!" When Rose innocently answered, "we're not spitting it in your room, don't worry!" he and Hermione had flown into the living room to discover their entire house was covered in spit up milk. And, true to Rose's word, they hadn't reached the master bedroom yet. But, the rest of the evening was spent sourgifying milk off of every surface in the house from carpets to books to sofas. And, despite the power of magic, there had been a lingering sour milk smell for weeks. Ever since, then, Ron had learned to feel distrustful of silence at home.

But now he was trying to learn to love it again. To see at as a place where he and Hermione got to start a new chapter of their lives. He missed the kids terribly, but for years their lives had been nothing but chasing chaos. Between his job as an auror, Hermione's high level position at the ministry, having two kids and the never ending pestering from the press to check up on the war heroes who fell in love, their life was a bit of a hamster chase. Having grown up at The Burrow, chaos was familiar. But, he finally felt like he and Hermione were getting a chance to do things they had always wanted to do, as well as just enjoy each other again.

He'd retired from the aurors in August. It was time, and this allowed them to take a long family vacation before the kids went to school in September. He'd finally taken George up on the offer to be a partner at WWW. While he'd helped George get the shop open just after the way, and pitched in over the years – especially helping with the security line of products they'd come up with, he'd never been as involved as he was now. And, Merlin, was he having fun. He'd forgotten how fun work could be. It reminded him of his early days on the force when he and Harry were partners. They had a great time chasing down escaped Death Eaters and solving crimes. But, over the years, he'd become disgruntled by the ever-growing mounds of paper world and regulations that seemed to dominate the work. That combined with the fact that his body just didn't respond the way now that it had done 20 years ago when he'd been a young auror. It was harder to sprint after a suspect or dodge curses like he once had. Harry had faced the same issue, but had risen up the ranks at the MLE. Ron could have done the same, or even taught at the academy, but he was bored and ready for a different challenge. It was time to meet new people and solve some new problems.

Having this new career at the same time as a newly child-free house had been strange, and they were both still getting used to it. It was only mid-October, and Hugo had only left for his first year of Hogwarts about 6 weeks ago. Hermione had cried for an entire day after they dropped the children off at Kings Cross. She'd said she had a migraine and couldn't go to work the next day, but Ron knew she hadn't had a migraine. She wasn't squinting her right eye like she did when she really had one. No, that September 2nd she had simply pulled the covers up over her head and not gotten out of bed.

Ron was a bit worried about her, actually. And, to be honest, he was a bit surprised at Hermione's reaction to their newly-emptied nest. Not that she wasn't an amazing mum – she was. But, she was never one of those mum's whose identity seemed to be wrapped up in their children. Unlike his own mum, Hermione had challenging job outside of the home as well. She had never learned to cook, so she didn't spend the afternoon preparing food as a way to shower her kids with love. And, she had never been one of those super-affectionate mums. She never seemed comfortable playing pretend with the kids, or living in the total chaos of plastic toys that happens when there is someone under the age of ten living in the house. She got frustrated stepping on legos in the middle of the night and was totally unraveled when some last minute kid catastrophe forced a change in her well thought out plans.

But she did love her children fiercely. Like a mama lion or something. She was so fascinated by who her own kids were and were becoming. She wanted them to see and experience all sorts of things, to hear what they thought about events in the world – both muggle and magical, and she wanted them to be comfortable in their own skin. Ron had thought this type of mothering would translate well to the distance between home and Hogwarts, but now he wasn't sure.

Hermione also seemed aggravated with work. She had a high level position, and had to work long hours, but he never saw her passionate about it anymore. She didn't bring papers home to work on late into the night. And she didn't talk much about the various injustices she had discovered and was trying to right. But the thing that seemed like the biggest red flag was that she didn't seem to be reading books anymore. For a while he'd assumed that she'd gotten a muggle electronic reading device and that's why there was a shortage of books. But then he realized that she hadn't. All she was doing her that electronic rectangle was chatting with her parents. He hadn't really been too concerned until he found her flipping through a stack of magazines she never would have been caught dead with before – the terrible magazines sold in grocery stores that used to feature their pictures with ridiculous headlines like "They may have started as a Trio, but Cupid's Arrow Only Hit These Two!" or "Golden Couple's Wedding: The Caterer's Inside Scoop".

He kicked his shoes off by the fireplace, and called out for Hermione, but got no response.

"Love, I'm home!" he called as he headed up the stairs to change out of his WWW garish orange shirt.

It was quiet upstairs as well, but he could see Hermione's work robes were hung up and her shoes placed neatly back on the rack in their closet. He threw on a clean shirt and headed out of their bedroom. Poking his head in both of the kids' empty bedrooms to be sure she wasn't laying down on one of their beds like he had found her doing the week after they left, he headed back downstairs. He poked his head into the library, but it was empty, and then went to the kitchen to make some tea figuring she must have run out to do some errands after work.

As he filled the kettle, he finally saw her hair through the window. She was sitting out on their screened in porch on an old rocking chair, wrapped up in his old Chudley Cannons blanket just watching the backyard. He made two cups of tea, and headed out to join her.

"Hi," he said quietly as he stepped out on the porch. "How was your day?" he asked as he kissed the top of her head and handed her the tea.

"Hi," she said quietly. "It was alright I suppose. How was the shop?"

"It was good. Not too many customers today, but I got to do a lot of work on the security contracts we're proposing, so that was good."

They sat quietly for a while and just drank their tea. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that takes decades to develop. She finally sighed and put her mug back on the table, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Are you alright, love?" Ron asked. "You haven't seemed yourself lately, and I just, well, I worry about you I suppose."

Hermione didn't speak for a bit, but watching the way she chewed her bottom lip, he knew she wasn't ok. And even before her eyes turned wet and red, he knew she was on the verge of tears.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally took a deep breath and asked, "Do you remember the birds' nest we found on this porch last spring?"

Caught slightly off guard by her response, Ron simply cocked his head and said, "The wrens who built the nest in the watering can on the porch?"

"Those are the ones," she replied.

Ron recalled how excited Rose had been when she discovered the wrens building the nest over the Easter holiday. The adult wrens snuck under this small crack between the screen door and the ground. Even something the size of a robin couldn't have fit there. Those tiny birds spent weeks stuffing this watering can full of leaves, straw, fluff, twigs and everything else they could find to make this nest. It was a brilliant location, actually. It was totally protected from the rain, from wind and from the neighbors' cats. Then the birds had hatched, and they'd watched the little birds leave the nest and learn to fly before disappearing into the back yard. Unsure of where Hermione was going with this, he simply sipped his tea and waited for her to continue.

"I remember the day the baby birds came out of the watering can. They were learning to fly, and they kept flopping around the porch flying from screen to screen. Four of them figured out how to follow their parents under the door and get out, but the one little bird couldn't seem to figure it out. I watched that bird for hours. She flew from screen to screen, frantically trying to figure out how to do what the others had done. I felt so badly for her, you know. It must have been terrifying at first – feeling like you'd been abandoned. Or maybe she felt like she wasn't smart enough to figure it out. Here this little bird had done everything she thought she should do, but somehow the world she could see – the world her family was in – she just couldn't get there. It went on for hours, you know. I realized I wanted to go out on the porch and leave a little trail of bugs and seeds just so she could follow it to the door. Her poor mum kept flying back in and out to show her what to do and bring her bits of food. She got so frazzled, you know. Unsure of how to get out, she kept trying to smash her way through the screen. Which obviously did nothing but cause bits of down to flutter everywhere. She knew there was a way out, but she couldn't figure it out."

Ron watched a small tear flow down the side of her cheek. It was clear to him Hermione wanted out of something, but he wasn't sure what. He placed his tea down and took her right hand with his left, softly caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

She looked at him, and pulled his hand up to kiss it.

"I know I'm not making any sense," she sighed.

"Love, I've spent years not understanding much of what you say only to later discover how exactly right you were. So I am used to it by now. But I might be of more help if you could be just a bit clearer."

She smiled at him. "I just feel flat. Not happy. Not sad. Just flat. And I'm stuck there. I've always had something I was working towards, you know? First it was learning magic, then taking down Riddle, then figuring us out, building our careers, getting married, elf rights, trying so hard to have a family, raising the kids – it's always been something. And – it's really not just about the kids moving out. It's not. But, I think having the kids home let me ignore how bored I was with other parts of my life because they took so much energy. And now that they are off at school most of the time, I have to face the fact that I am stuck."

Ron just looked at her hesitantly. His old insecurities that had been long defeated came roaring back to life in his chest. He almost couldn't breathe. Was she saying she felt stuck with him? Was she bored of him? He'd always felt the day would come when his brilliant wife would realize she had chosen poorly when she picked him. And now he wasn't even an exciting auror, he was only a lowly shop keeper. He gulped again and forced himself to take a deep breath letting it out slowly.

"Hermione," he said unsteadily, "are you saying you feel stuck with me?"

She snapped her head to face him, crying out "NO! Merlin, no! Oh, Ron, I'm sorry – no – I didn't mean it that way at all. You are the one solid thing in my life." She leaned over and kissed a visibly relieved Ron. "Don't ever think that, ok? Never!"

"OK – I just – well, I wasn't sure what you are getting at? What are you stuck with?"

"That's part of it – I don't really even know to be honest. But, I'm at a point in my career where I feel like I should be effecting real change, but somehow I feel like I've lost all the wind in my sail. It's not just that I'm not make a difference – I don't even know if I care anymore. And that doesn't feel like me either. I've been at the ministry for almost twenty years now. To do something else – it just feels too late for me somehow. I know you have made this incredible move, and I am a little jealous in a way. Not that I want to work with George – that is most assuredly not the point. I just. Ugh. Well, I know I did a lot of brave things in our younger days. But – well – maybe I just used up all of my brave early on. Maybe you only get so much and I used it all up then. And at the time it didn't even feel brave. It just felt like I was doing what I knew I needed to do. There had been no doubt whatsoever. Whether that was going off to Hogwarts to learn magic, sending my parents to Australia, facing Bellatrix, going back to Hogwarts without you and Harry – looking back it was all quite brave. But now, now I don't feel like I have any left. And I don't even know what to do – let alone feel brave enough to do it. So, instead, I feel like that little bird. And I am just thrashing about, using up all my energy, getting hurt a little and getting no closer to being where I need to be."

Ron squeezed her hand for a moment.

"First of all – you are the bravest person I know. Secondly, I had no idea you were this unhappy, love. I knew you hadn't been quite yourself since the kids went to school, but I really had no clue it was this bad. Why didn't you say something?"

"What could I say, Ron?" she cried in an almost exasperated way. "I am miserable and don't know why? I lost my way? I am terribly busy and bored to tears?"

"Well, any one of those would have been helpful," Ron retorted. "But, the point isn't really about why I didn't know. The point is what are we going to do about it?"

"But I don't even know what 'it' is!"

"Well, that may be true. But, do you know the difference between that little bird and you?"

She shook her head.

"It's a big difference, actually. That little bird didn't have the love of her life at her side. You have me. And I will get you unstuck and off of this porch if I have to carry you myself."

She smiled, now. "You are sweet, Ron. I love you so much. But I don't know how to fix this."

"Well, it sounds like you should quit your job for starters."

"Quit my job? I can't quit my job. What would everyone say? What about the bill I am working on with the centaurs, someone has to do that. And, I know we have a lot of savings, but we aren't in a place to just go down to one income!"

"Hermione, you and I each make more than my parents ever made. I know I've never wanted to be as poor as they were, but let's face it, we don't have seven children. And we've both worked for twenty years. We would be ok. We might have to sell this house and live somewhere smaller, but I don't care. We could live on the top floor at Grimmauld place for all I care. But, we have decades of life ahead of us, and that is way to long for you to be stuck and miserable."

"I appreciate that, but I am not ready to quit quite yet. I am not even sure that is the problem. For right now, I think the problem is I am bored and need to find something to be excited about again. Something to work on – whether that's at work or outside of work, I have no idea. I see how energized you are coming home from work now. It's like whole new parts of your brain are firing that you haven't had to use in years with your other career. I want something like that. I want to be excited to get up in the mornings. And right now, I am not excited to get up in the mornings. All I want to do is roll over and snuggle into you and stay there all day."

"Well, I am always in favor of that, you know."

She smacked him playfully and laughed. Seeing laughter in her eyes, even if only for a moment relieved Ron greatly.

"Well, so maybe don't quit tomorrow. But, I think you should not go to work tomorrow or Friday. Take a few days and the weekend to figure some things out. Find a good book about something, walk the trail in the woods where you go to reflect on things. Write in your journal. Go to a muggle library and get lost there for a while. Research clubs to join or causes to get behind. Find something to spark that joy again."

"What if I can't figure it out?"

"Well, I have never known a problem you couldn't figure out. I just haven't. So, I have full faith that you will find something to get excited about again. You might not find it this weekend, but that's ok. Give yourself a little credit, love. You've done a hell of a lot for the world in the past few decades. If you want to stay home and garden for a while, I think the world owes you that."

"Oh how terrible would I be as a professional gardener?" laughed Hermione.

"Well, you could grow mushrooms," joked Ron.

"Oh heavens. Definitely not the solution I am seeking."

"Don't rush it. It took us seven years to figure out we were secretly in love with each other. You'll figure it out, We have many more exciting chapters ahead of us. I have absolutely no doubt about that at all."

"I never thought I would be one for a midlife crisis, you know? I thought that with having loved my work at the ministry and my work as a mum that I would be fine with they went to school. I could never really figure out how to rough house around with them anyway. I thought this latter part of childhood would be where I was better at the mum thing. So why am I struggling now?"

"You are an amazing mum. And our kids are so lucky to have you. With their Uncle George in their lives they have more than enough joking around to last for a lifetime. You show them how to love, and how to learn. You teach them to believe in themselves and to be true to themselves. You teach me those things every day. Lack of tea parties with dollies will not permanently harm anyone."

"I love you Ron."

"I love you too. Now, I am going to send an owl to your boss and tell her you are quite under the weather and probably won't be in until Monday. Then I am going to order Chinese take-away, and I am going to get extra fortune cookies and we will sit here and crack them open until we find a good one. You know I much prefer fortune cookies to crystal balls. Much tastier, and just about as accurate!"

It was several hours later and the two of them were camped in front of the fireplace cracking open fortune cookie after fortune cookie.

"Do you think they get Trelawney to write this rubbish?" Hermione laughed as she threw away a piece of paper suggesting luck would come with certain lottery numbers.

"Nah. Trelawney's fortunes were all too gruesome to put on cookies. Oooh – what about this one? It says that you should embrace wisdom in all forms."

"Think that includes fortune cookie wisdom?"

"Or this one, it says your true friends will always remind you of your faults."

"Really? It says that? That's terrible!"

"Like you've found better ones."

"Hmm. What about this one? It says I will never get ahead on a circular path."

"Definitely a sign you should quit your job," he said as he popped crumbled fortune cookie bits into his mouth.

"Ooohh…Ron...this is a good one. Really. It says the strongest trees in the forest are the ones that bend the most."

"What does that even mean?"

"I think it means I have to adapt. Well – adapt or snap into bits before being turned into firewood."

"Seriously? You get that from bendy trees?"

"Well, yes. I do. But I am also sick of fortune cookies. We have to have opened twenty of them. And I was already full from the egg rolls anyway. But you know what I really take from this?"

"We could make a living writing fortune cookie fortunes?"

"That. And, it doesn't matter what they all say. You are my rock. My roots. You hold me firm. I could walk in circular paths. Or be insulted by true friends. Or be the bendiest tree in the woods. But you ground me. And I wouldn't have it any other way."


	2. Chapter 2

Tapping her quill against her desk, she scratched out what she had just written, crumpled up the parchment at threw it into the waste bin next to her desk. With a flick of her wrist she threw a silencing spell on the closed door. Once she was sure she wouldn't be heard, she kicked a pile of papers by her chair and screamed out an exasperated sigh.

"ARRRRGGGHHHH," she heaved as she slowly pounded her forehead into her desk.

With her right cheek still on her desk, she turned her head slightly so she could see the bookcase to her left. It was filled to the brim with books and legal briefs, but in front of each layer of books were picture frames filled with magical photographs, smiling and waving at her. There was Ron holding Rose just after she'd been born. Then one of Rose trying to force Hugo and Crookshanks into a fancy dress tea party with Rose smiling broadly while Hugo and Crookshanks squirmed until they knocked over the tiny table. There were older ones too, including one of Ron, Harry and Hermione at Bill and Fleur's wedding, only hours before they were to start the horcrux hunt. They all looked so eager and passionate.

Her favorite picture was one taken without their knowledge. It was the summer after the war, when she and Ron had finally figured things out and were helping each other learn to live again. They had been down on the pier by the pond at sunset one night when Ron had asked her to dance. She had pointed out there was no music, and Ron had simply said he had everything he'd ever need in his arms, and they had held each other closely and danced in the dimming warm rays of the sun to the sounds of the frogs and crickets. She hadn't know that picture existed until they had their first real fight a little more than a year later. She was so nervous about Ron leaving for auror training that she had picked a fight with him about something stupid. She thought he'd _left_ left, which had her in a devastated ball of tears on the floor of the flat. Of course he hadn't left. He'd gone to George's to cool off. George, in his annoying wisdom, smacked him upside the head and dragged him back to their flat, giving them each of copy of this picture. He'd basically locked them in together saying something like "how can a couple who can be this in love be this stupid?" And it had worked.

Next to the bookcase of pictures was a wall covered in awards of all kinds. Order of Merlin, Awards from the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic. Various degrees and recognitions from wizarding schools all over the world for her achievements. These were interspersed with art done by the children over the years. While Hugo and Rose were at Hogwarts now, her office was still covered in pictures from their earliest years – flowers in bright colors, stick figure families with smiling faces, a crooked house surrounded by hearts that she assumed was The Burrow. Next to that was her project board. She used it to stay organized on all the various projects and initiatives she had going at any given time. She had research studies, laws working through the Wizengamot committees, legal briefs to write as a friend of the court, lectures to give at various schools and focus groups to be held with different groups of magical creatures. And she didn't give a damn about any of it.

She'd thought she'd come in with a better attitude that morning. After struggling on her own for a few weeks, she'd finally confided in Ron about her current predicament. He was wonderful, and encouraged her to quit immediately. The rational part of her brain and kicked in, and she knew she couldn't do that. But, he'd encouraged her to take a few days off to rest and reflect a bit, which she had. The past four days had been spent resting, reading and thinking about what to do. And she'd come in this morning with a fresh mind to focus on getting a few things done before she would leave the position. And that chipper approach had lasted all of 30 minutes. And now she was right back in the thick of the misery.

She knew she could quit her job – at least theoretically anyway. But, then what? Sit at home and wonder what to do? At least here she could keep up the appearance of her normal life while she figured it out. And this way she wouldn't have to read about her nervous breakdown in the Daily Prophet. She could see Skeeter's headline now, "Golden Girl Finally Cracks" or "Granger-Weasley's Downward Spiral." And it wouldn't be that far off, she supposed. But she would rather do it in private.

She loved her family. She didn't need a new career. She needed to get excited again. Some could say she was depressed, but blaming this on a chemical imbalance would ignore the fact that there were some good reasons for the problem. She had been working her behind off since, well, since forever. She'd been an over achiever since day one. And then she'd taken on Tom Riddle and things had just gone from there. But, now she was basically as high as she could go at the ministry unless she wanted to actually run for elected office. And she absolutely knew she didn't want to do that. She had come into her career noble and innocent enough to think that if people just understood the problem or knew the facts that it would change things. Knowledge and hard work were all it would take, and Merlin knows she was willing to offer both. But, almost two decades into it, she now knew much better. She had become the jaded middle aged ministry worker she used to loathe. She didn't want to try something new because she had in fact tried it ten years ago, and the same bloody problems they hit then were still around. She just didn't have the energy or the fight to take it on any more.

She wondered if it was just ministry work. Would she feel that way if she worked at a business – maybe Gringotts for instance? Though, of course they would never hire her. They had barely been able to keep their money there even after all this time. The goblins still hadn't really forgiven her for breaking in. She'd even thought about working in the muggle world. What if she went to work for UNICEF or some nonprofit group? But then the problem was they still needed funding, and to get funding, you still had to schmooze with politicians and cut deals she was no longer willing to cut. Magical or muggle, schmoozing was more than she was cut out for.

She thought about what Ron and George were doing. She knew she didn't want to work at WWW. But, she had always admired how they worked so hard to build something so significant. It was a cultural cornerstone of a magical childhood. They had really built it – and it had brought a lot of joy into the world in the process. She was rather sure Fred and George hadn't entered into it with such a gallant vision, but it had certainly turned out to be fabulous. They could be creative and profitable. How amazing was that?

She wanted to be creative too. Decades at the ministry had just about sucked the life out of her brain. She thought it was sort of like a dementor but one that filled you with dullness and boredom instead of depression and misery. Similar, but horrifying in its own unique way. And it was so bizarre to her, but everyone still thought she was a water-walker. Even after basically blowing off her job for the past few months, people still raved to her about her work. Her work! They thought it was brilliant when it was really nonsense she threw together in the thirty minutes before a presentation. She could do this stuff with her eyes closed. It wasn't challenging. It wasn't interesting. And it wasn't making a difference. She was convinced it was killing her.

But while Ron was supportive and encouraged her to quit, Hermione was the practical one in the relationship and had worked out the math. Ron hadn't been eligible to technically retire from the ministry yet. He'd actually just quit. And that meant that almost half of his retirement went away. Now, depending on how well the shop did, they could still have a decent income. But it was a big if. So, now Hermione's salary and retirement was the steady, reliable part. And, unlike in muggle England, the magical world had employer based health insurance. Since WWW didn't offer much, so they were still on the ministry plan. That meant that if she quit, the whole family could be without insurance – or at least without good insurance. With the lingering effects of their war injuries, not to mention some of the things Ron had dealt with during his years as an auror, they really couldn't go without insurance. She'd looked into it before. They could purchase some directly, but it would be very expensive. And, if they were to lose all or most of her income, that would be an issue. They might have to sell the house or do something equally as drastic. She liked her home. She raised her children there, and while she didn't feel she had to be there the rest of her life, she was so tired these days that the idea of starting over somewhere was exhausting.

She was aggravated at herself for just wanting to run away from her own life. If she was running to something she could almost be more forgiving. She could take a risk for something. But she wasn't really able to talk herself into taking a risk to simply get out of something.

Suddenly this feeling came over her – starting in the pit of her stomach and working up into her mouth. She knew she just had to leave that office immediately. While she intellectually knew she was in no danger, her fight or flight response had kicked in and she had to get the hell out of her office. Immediately.

She grabbed her purse, wand and cloak and wiped her eyes to try to make herself look as normal as possible. As she headed out of her office she said quickly to her secretary, "Sorry, Madge, an unexpected meeting has come up. I'm not sure I will make it back in today." The older woman simply nodded and smiled and went back to her parchment. Hermione walked quickly down the hall, past the floo banks and out the front door where she ducked around to the nearest apparition point. Thinking only briefly about where to head, she soon turned and found herself in an alleyway in muggle London. She cast a quick concealment charm on herself to make her look more like a muggle and simply started walking down the street.

She'd walked for nearly an hour, and finally felt like she could breathe normally again. She didn't feel like she was on the cusp of tears, and she no longer felt like she needed to curl up into a ball.

The cool fall air was getting deep into her lungs, and she felt slightly invigorated. The balls of her feet were slightly sore from walking in heels, so she decided to find a local café. First she found the loo where she splashed water on her face and transfigured her heels into comfortable walking shoes. Then she found a table, ordering a cup of tea and a crumpet. There was a discarded London Times-Dispatch on table, so she decided to read it while she ate. She perused articles about muggle musicians, strife between various countries and some arguments about the flight paths at Heathrow. As she flipped through the different sections, she saw a headline that caught her eye. In one of the local sections was an article about a group collecting donated books and money for a library. The library was to be located in a small housing project where many of the residents had trouble getting to the main bus line to get into town. Having a small, local branch would allow for books to be accessed by all residents, especially the children and the elderly.

Sipping her tea, Hermione remembered when she was a little girl. Primary school had been difficult for her. The material was too easy, so she was often bored. Then she was terribly socially awkward, which meant she didn't have any little friends to play with outside of class. Books had been her only escape. If it hadn't been for the librarian at school or the librarians at her local public library she was really not sure how she could have made it through the first chapter of her life. Instead of sitting alone and crying, those lovely women had opened her mind to a world of curiosity and knowledge. She could learn anything she wanted if she found the right books. And she could get lost in the most wonderful stories. She had gone into the cupboard with CS Lewis. She had fallen in love with Gilbert Blythe with Anne of Green Gables, and she admired the strength of Jo in Little Women. So, when she was in primary school and sitting by herself at lunch, she was really never alone. Instead she was inspired by these wonderful characters and entertained by their incredible journeys. If her mind hadn't been so broadened and awakened by them, how could she have ever been prepared for the unbelievable adventures she found herself facing in her own life once she got to Hogwarts?

When she was pregnant with Rose, she had decided she was decorating the nursery with children's books. She wanted some of her childhood favorites like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Goodnight Moon, but she also wanted magical children's books. And that's when she had begun to realize what a lack of them there were in the magical world. There were a few characters of course, Babbity Rabbit and some other old tales. But, they were the exception. It had come as quite a shock to her that magical public libraries weren't really a thing. She had simply assumed that magical towns had little libraries where children could go and find stories on dragons and fairies and trolls. But, there weren't. Some parents took their children to muggle libraries, but most just didn't go at all. And, muggle books weren't always a great choice either, as witches and wizards were usually depicted as terrible characters who were usually ugly and mean. While her children did go to a magical primary school in London, many magical children were home-schooled like the Weasley kids had been growing up. And that meant no school library. But this also meant that there weren't a lot of places for children to learn about books and stories in general. So, due to the basic laws of supply and demand, the fact that there wasn't a large demand for children's books therefore meant that there simply weren't very many magical children's books written at all. Hermione thought this was horrid.

As she continued to sip her tea, she wondered if this library idea was something that could be her spark. She wasn't sure if she wanted to build a magical library or if she wanted to find ways to ensure there were more magical children's books. Maybe both. But, rather quickly she noticed a jolt in her mind as she had unconsciously started to make lists of things she would need to research and people who she might be able to convince to write a story or two.

"Huh," she mused out loud. "Not the idea I expected to find in a muggle cafe."

She paid her bill and quickly left. As soon as she reached an appropriately hidden spot she apperated to Diagon Alley and headed straight for Flourish and Botts. She went directly to the sad little aisle they marketed as the section for "little witches and wizards." It was really only part of one aisle. She sat right down on the floor, as she had done many times at Flourish and Botts over the years and started to list out every single magical children's book and their authors and publishers. It didn't take too long, and soon she had a complete list. There were only 80 books on it, with 30 of them being quidditch related. Putting her list back into her purse, she headed back out onto Diagon Alley and walked the entire length of the street from the Leaky Cauldron all the way to the other end paying close attention to a few buildings with "for sale or lease" signs in the windows. As she made her way back down the length of the street again, she noticed Ron standing out front of WWW watching her with his head slightly cocked.

"Hey there," she smiled. "Is business so slow that you are out here trying to bring in customers?"

"No, not exactly. But, by the time I had seen you walk by three times with that 'Hermione's On A Mission' look on your face I had to come see what you were up to."

"You got all of that from seeing me go up and down Diagon Alley?"

"I may be a shop keeper now, but twenty years as an auror and almost thirty years studying you, yeah. I got that out of watching you go up and down the street. So. Spill it. What's the mission?"

She laughed at him and considered his question for a moment before smugly replying, "Well Mr. Weasley, I have almost 30 years of studying you up my sleeve as well. And in that time I have learned that you love a good puzzle almost as much as you love chess. So - I think I am going to let you mull things over a bit. And, if you're nice, I may give you a hint or two this evening."

He lifted one eyebrow and gave her his lopsided grin, "you haven't gotten it all worked out yet, have you?"

She stomped her foot in mock aggravation. "You are annoying, you know?"

"Yes. I do know. And it's fine. Keep your little puzzle a secret for now. It's good seeing you wound up like this again."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," he said in a much huskier voice. "I like you wound up."

"Me too," she smiled as she leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss quickly heated up until George knocked on the front window.

"Knock it off you two. You'll scare away the paying customers," he teased.

"Wanker," mumbled Ron.

"OK. I'm off. I will see you at home. And, if you don't want to have to eat reheated leftovers of that sorry attempt at a chicken casserole I made yesterday, I strongly suggest you pick up some sustenance for us on your way home."

"Take away it is, love."

She smiled and headed off down the street, enjoying the spring that had returned to her step.


	3. Chapter 3

It was after midnight when Harry and Ron stepped through the floo into the living room. Harry had convinced Ron to join some of their old friends from the auror department for a drink after work, and their night at the pub had gone later than expected. Ginny was on a business trip covering quidditch for the Daily Prophet, and Lily was staying at The Burrow with her grandparents. Harry had originally planned to be home alone, but Ron had convinced him to sleep at their place after staying so late at the pub.

Ron was hanging up his cloak and realized Harry was watching Hermione with a silent laugh.

"She certainly looks like her old self, doesn't she?" he whispered, gesturing at Hermione who had fallen asleep on the sofa surrounded with parchment, quill still in hand. "How many nights did we find her in this state in the Gryffindor Common Room?"

Ron smiled, thinking of some of the nights when he'd found her this way and then simply sat in the chair next to her to watch her sleep. He'd been entranced by this witch for as long as he could remember.

"It's been great to see her get so excited about something again."

"Even if it means we each have to write a children's book?" Harry quipped.

"Well, it's not like nothing interesting has ever happened to you."

"Who wants to read about growing up living under the stairs?"

"Have you not paid attention to any of those muggle Disney movies? They always start with killing off at least one if not both of the parents. Even old muggle books seem to start that way. Who was that one Hermione said they made a musical about? Oscar Trist?"

"Oliver Twist. Blimey. Can you imagine a musical number about Dudley and Uncle Vernon?"

"OK. Maybe not the winning angle. But you could easily write something about a kind giant on a motorbike rescuing a little boy from a mean uncle."

"I know. And she's right. We need more magical children's books."

"Just wait til the books are written. Then she'll start hitting you up for help on the library."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. And it will be another brilliant plan, but it will absolutely be a pain in both of our arses to get it open."

"Who else has she hit up for books?"

"Well, let's see. Ginny's doing the one on the flying princess. Charlie is doing a whole series on dragons. Luna is doing something on creatures that may or may not be real. Neville is writing one about a boy who loves plants – not quite sure how exciting that one will be actually. Mum is doing one about a little girl who learns to knit with her grandmother's magic knitting needles. Dad is doing one on a little boy who grows up with a muggle neighbor and the boy always sneaks off to the muggle's shed."

"A real stretch, that one."

Ron snickered. "None of them are farfetched. That's what's so funny. Hermione has said they can all write under fake names if they want. Fleur is writing one about a veela and a werewolf, and she's even roped McGonagall into doing a series about a magical cat who transfigures all these different things."

"Fun. I mean, the kids would have loved all of those growing up. But, it's still only a dozen or so books. Going to take a lot more than that to fill even a second aisle at Flourish & Botts."

"I know. And it will take a while. But, she is on a mission, and you bloody well know she will get it done, right?"

"Oh, I know. And, I have to admit. I like this mission better than the house elf hats or the horcruxes. What do the kids think of it?"

"Hard to know, really. They haven't been home since she started in on it all. I know Hermione's mentioned it a bit in her letters to them, but I would assume Hugo has ignored that completely, and Rose thought it was mildly interesting, but didn't get how it has taken over the living room."

"Well, they'll be home next week for Christmas, so time will tell soon enough I suppose."

"I am sure she will have our kids and yours all writing books over the holidays. Like a little literary sweat shop or something."

"Brilliant."

"I love it. The spark is back in her eyes, you know? She is up before her alarm again, and rushes off to work to knock out what she calls the 'paying work' before lunch, and then devotes the rest of her time to either writing or pestering other people to write or publish these books. And she's already picked out the perfect spot in Diagon Alley for the library. It's not too big of a place, but it'll be on the floo network so people can get there from all of the little magical towns. She's convinced George and some of the other shop owners to pitch in, arguing that bringing more families with young kids in on a regular basis will help grow business. The restaurants are especially excited about it. She's talking to them about giving coupons for 'free ice cream with proof of reading 10 books at the library' or something like that. Really cool stuff."

"As interesting as children's books may be, I am quite tipsy and am going to bed. Can I assume the guest bed hasn't been turned into a library quite yet?"

"Well, it wasn't as of this morning, but I would never bet against her. If it's covered in stuff, just move it to the floor. Night, Harry."

Harry nodded and made his way up the stairs to the guest room. Ron looked back down at Hermione, slowly taking the quill from her hand. He then took the stack of parchment she had been working on and went to put in on the end table. The picture Hermione had sketched above the little story caught his eye, and he realized she was writing a children's book about that baby wren who couldn't get off the porch. But this time, the story wasn't about how scared, sad or frustrated the little bird was. The story was about how grateful the little bird was for her best friend, who came back and showed her how to get off the porch and then about the fun adventures they went on together once they were out in the world.

Ron sat back on his heels as he read the story again. He still never ceased to be amazed by how much Hermione loved him. He knew they were an amazing team, and he loved her with every ounce of his being. But, somehow it had never been easy for him to truly believe she chose him.

He glanced up from the parchment to study her face. She was so stunningly gorgeous, but she never believed him when he told her so. The mass of curls hadn't tamed with age, but there were a few more grey curls than there used to be. There were more lines as well, just as there were on his face. But hers weren't spoiled with freckles. He leaned down to kiss her softly, and she stirred, but didn't wake. Chuckling to himself, he scooped her up in his arms as he'd done many times, and carried her up to their bed.

As he crawled into bed next to her, he thought of what his twelve year old self might think. Here he was, once again with Harry and Hermione. She had come up with another cockamamie plan, and they would both do anything they could to see it through for her. The three of them had so many adventures under their belts, and they weren't even forty yet. While he thought they'd done pretty well adjusting to this empty nest, he realized that it was just as much about them getting out of the nest to have more of their own adventures as launching their kids. And he couldn't wait to read the stories she'd make them write about the adventures yet to come.


End file.
